Down To Sleep
by rogueandkurt
Summary: Have you ever woken up and thought, This is going to be the day that I die? Probably not...But that's how my day started. Gregcentric angst. Post PWF. Rated for Character Death.


Okay, I'm back after... well, quite a while. This is my first fic in almost a year! Time sure flies.

This is my first CSI fic. Embarrassingly enough, I've been writing it since August 2005. Sad, I know. But it's finally done and posted!

It's a Greg-centric angst fic set sometime after the terrific episode 'Play With Fire'. However, since that episode was so long ago in the series, there may be minor spoilers for later episodes (nothing drastic, just small character stuff).

There IS character death, so ye be warned.

Nothing much left to say except that all you Greg fans out there who haven't seen 'Fannysmackin'' don't know what you're missing!

Disclaimer: I don't own CSI or any of it's characters.

* * *

Have you ever woken up and thought, 'This is going to be the day that I die'? Probably you haven't, or else you wouldn't be here listening to me. But that's how my day started. 

For all other thoughts and purposes, I suppose today was a normal one. I doubt many people saw significance in it. Just another spring afternoon in Las Vegas. Not a bad day to choose, I guess.

I awoke with a feeling of utter calm and peace. I knew in my heart that this was it. This was the day I had been waiting for.

I had conditioned myself to wake precisely two hours before shift started, allowing ample time for me to get ready and arrive fifteen minutes early. Good old reliable Greg; that's me. Always eager to help. To learn. But today was different.

I took my time getting up. Stripping off the clothes I hadn't bothered to change out of after last shift, I turned the hot water in the shower on. I waited as it approached scalding temperatures before throwing myself under the stream of water. The heat felt good on my skin. It was nice to feel anything, really.

I grabbed the soap and began scrubbing. I tried to focus on other things, but I soon came to the part that I dreaded. My fingers brushed against the scarred, dead skin on my back and I could hardly contain the shudder. Those scars served as a constant reminder of my failure. They repulsed me. Their bumpy texture brought back the memories I tried hard to forget. The noise. The explosion. The sirens. The strangers telling me not to worry. I could see it all clearly in my mind.

The explosion in the lab had been the last straw for me. It was then that I had realized that there was nothing left for me. The lab had been the last safe place in my life. The one place where everything worked the way I wanted it to. I couldn't control the results of the tests I ran but I was in charge of the tests themselves. I knew what my job was and I knew exactly how to do it. The explosion had changed all of that. There was nothing I could control anymore. Well, almost nothing…

I finished my shower and turned off the water. Stepping out into the cool air, I wrapped a towel around myself and turned to my bathroom mirror. It was foggy from the steam. I used my hand to wipe away some of the condensation, just enough to see my reflection.

The late nights were finally beginning to show. I'd been able to handle them before. I used to be able to go three nights in a row on two hours of sleep each without ever losing the smile from my face. It was different now. I had changed, and my new outlook was sewn into my appearance. Not that anyone else had noticed.

_It's not their fault_, I reminded myself. Everyone had their own problems to deal with. They were far too busy to notice the changes in my behaviour and appearance. I'd done my best to act as if everything was normal, but I knew my demeanor had changed as well.

Drying myself off, I stepped out of the bathroom and headed for the closet. I spent nearly fifteen minutes deliberating my outfit for the day. That may sound vain, but I wanted to make some sort of lasting impression. If you know that you're about to spend your last day on earth, you have a strange desire to look your best. It's the last time anyone will see you. The last memory they'll have. I figured if I was going out, I was going out in style. Besides, it was one more thing I had control over.

Finally deciding on a white, striped button up shirt and khaki-coloured pants, I went back to the bathroom to tackle my hair. Despite popular opinion, I rarely spent more than ten minutes or so spiking my hair before work. Today was no different. In no time at all, my hair had reached its usual state of ordered chaos. I almost smiled at my reflection. Almost.

The rest of my routines passed by in a mundane blur. What was my last meal, you ask? I honestly couldn't tell you. My mind had gone to autopilot, as it had done so often those last few months. Before I knew it, I was dressed and fed and staring at my watch. There was still fourty-five minutes to go before shift started.

I made my way back to my bedroom. Grabbing the sheets, I made the bed neatly, tucking in the edges and everything. I picked the clothes up off of the floor and folded them neatly, placing them carefully on the foot of my bed. No sense in someone else doing it.

Satisfied that my room was orderly, I went to the dresser and pulled open the top drawer, revealing a multitude of neatly folded clothes. Sifting through one of the piles, my hand finally grasped what it was searching for. Exactly where I'd left them. Carefully, I pulled out the creased paper and small bottle, putting them both securely in my pants pocket before closing the drawer again.

With a good thirty minutes to go, I decided to take the scenic route to work. Well, scenic for Vegas anyway. Driving down along the busy roads past the casinos and stripper joints, I briefly wondered if I'd miss it. Sin City. Las Vegas, Nevada.

The short answer was no. This place, whatever else it had been for me, was not home. Where is home, you might wonder? Once I might have considered home to be San Francisco. But it had been too long since I'd lived there. No, home had taken on a different meaning for me. I think that's why I chose the Lab as the perfect place for my deed. There's no place like home, after all. I guess Dorothy was on to something.

Soon enough, I had arrived at the Las Vegas Crime Lab. Two minutes to spare. I decided not to rush.

Entering the building, I found the place to be unusually quiet. I made my way to the lab without running into anyone. I guessed it was only a matter of time before someone came barging in, demanding a sample be immediately processed. As it was, my counter had a small pile of evidence on it already, a note from the daytime DNA tech informing me that he had been unable to finish processing them during his shift.

I set to work.

Some time after that, the sound of heels clicking on linoleum alerted me to Catherine's impending presence. I looked up as she entered. Catherine had always impressed me. A single mom and terrific CSI, she still always managed to look fantastic for her age. Not that I thought of her in a romantic way anymore. Now, she was something like the surrogate mother of the lab, although any of us would've been terrified to tell her that.

She smiled at me, the same smile I imagined had impressed plenty of her 'clients' back in the day. The smile that seemed to be specifically for you.

"Hey, Greg," she said, more of a statement than a greeting. "I need you to put this through for me."

She walked closer to the counter where I was sitting, holding out her sample. I took it with a nod.

Surveying my area with an air of approval, she smiled. "You've been busy."

"Just finishing up the dayshift's samples," I replied, following her gaze to the pile of processed evidence. "But don't worry - Your stuff's going to the top of my pile."

The smile was back, more genuine this time. "Thanks, Greg. By the way, Lindsey says 'hi'."

I gave a half smile. The few times Lindsey had come to work with her mom, she had been allowed to hang out in my lab provided she didn't touch anything. She was a sweet kid, and had actually had a crush on me for a couple of years now.

"Well," I replied, cocking my head coyly and trying my best to sound like my old self. "Tell her that I say 'hi' back."

Catherine grinned. "I think she's hoping you'll come around for dinner again soon. Maybe some time next week? Another chance for me to show off my take-out skills?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice." I felt a twinge of guilt. I hated lying to her. Unconsciously, my hand went to my pocket.

She nodded and turned to go.

"Catherine?" I called. She looked back at me expectantly. I hesitated slightly. "Thank you."

My voice was raw, the first bit of real emotion that I'd shown in months. The strawberry blonde looked confused. She locked eyes with me, and for a second I thought she knew. But the moment passed and she broke the connection with another smile.

"Sure, Greg," she answered, leaving. I knew that detective-like mind of hers was working overtime trying to figure out what had just happened. I wasn't worried. She was smart, but by the time she put the pieces together, my task would be done. I just didn't want to leave without saying goodbye.

Silently, I went back to work.

My eyes kept flitting to the clock above my workstation. I'd already been there a couple of hours. Not much time left. I was already done most of the samples. So far, no other new evidence had been brought it. It was a slow day. Waiting for Catherine's evidence to process, I began organizing it all into little piles according to case and priority. I wanted to make it as easy as possible for them.

Finally, I was done. Everything was finished processing and my workstation was perfectly orderly. It was time for my break. I reached into my pocket and pulled out the creased piece of paper. Unfolding it, I placed it carefully under one of the piles of results. I knew it would be found soon enough.

Exiting my lab, I took one last look around at what I was leaving behind. Through the glass walls, I could see Archie typing feverishly at his computer, Warrick standing over his shoulder. Grissom was next door with Hodges. They appeared to be having a casual discussion over a piece of evidence. Elsewhere, I knew Sarah and Nick were working hard on their current robbery case. Standing in the middle of the hall, I said my second-last goodbyes.

Walking up the stairs to the roof, it finally began to hit me. I'd been planning this day for so long, ever since the explosion. Every day my world had been getting smaller. I could feel the walls closing in on me. Work was less interesting and more mundane. Nothing seemed quite as good anymore. Even the colours had become less vibrant. My world was dreary and muted, as if I was seeing everything through dark sunglasses. I could find no joy in it anymore. Eventually, I had decided I'd had enough.

So I had started thinking about it. Just in passing at first, but with each thought the idea became more inviting. Strangely enough, it had given me something to look forward to. I hadn't had that in a long time.

Opening the door, I surveyed the area. The edge, like on most building roofs, was raised, obviously to prevent accidents. There were some lights around the edge, just enough to illuminate the carpet of cigarette butts covering the ground. It was where some of the day-shift lab technicians took their smoke breaks. A good place to get away, with little chance of someone barging in and demanding their evidence results. I knew someone would come up eventually, but until then I had the place to myself.

Darkness had already begun to fall. Not that it ever got too dark in Vegas. The neon lights made sure of that. I picked out a spot with few cigarette butts and sat down. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the small bottle. It was too dark to read the label, but I knew it by heart. Popping the top off, I shook it lightly, satisfied with the rattling noise they made.

I sighed. This was it. No turning back. I closed my eyes and put the bottle to my lips. Throwing my head back, I swallowed a mouthful of the colourful little pills dry. Choking slightly, I waited for them to slide down my throat before downing another bunch. Again and again, until all of them were gone. My mouth was dry from the effort, but it was done.

Now, I could only wait.

My eyes turned to the sky above me. It was a bit darker now, but you still couldn't see the stars. That's one thing I always hated about Las Vegas - the light pollution. You had to go all the way into the desert to see the stars. It was just too bright everywhere else.

I used to love looking at the stars. I'd wanted to be an astronomer as a kid. My parents had encouraged the idea, and even bought me a telescope for my ninth birthday. I used to know the names of all the constellations. I lost interest in all of that a long time ago, though.

I could feel the pills starting to take effect. My pulse was already slowing. Somewhere in my mind, I could hear familiar words from my childhood.

_'Now I lay me down to sleep...'_

I couldn't hold back a small, morbid chuckle. That's certainly what I was doing. The big sleep. The everlasting kind.

The words from the prayer played over and over in my head. I'd never had much time for religion. As a child, my mother had diligently dragged me to mass every Sunday. She was a devout Catholic and had wanted me to share her faith. When I was in college, she'd phoned me every Sunday to ask if I had gone to church. I usually lied. It was easier than explaining my 'beliefs' or lack thereof. The idea of some ultimate being having complete control over our lives just wasn't something I bought in to.

My chest was beginning to hurt. It was dull at first, but it soon became a sharp pang. I tried to focus on breathing through it, telling myself that it would all be over soon.

I wondered who would be the one to find me. I supposed that it didn't really matter, but some part of me hoped it wouldn't be anyone from my shift. I didn't want them to see me like this.

_'...I pray the Lord my soul to keep..."_

I clumsily lifted my hand to my pounding head. I felt like a rag doll being used as a pincushion. Whoever said this was the easy way out certainly hadn't tried it.

What would my parents do when they heard? Would they be disappointed? Yes. After everything they did to keep their 'darling boy' safe, this would definitely upset them. It was thoughts of my mom's crying face that had kept me from doing this for so long. Especially after the explosion in the lab. But finally the pain I had felt in the world had become too much to bear.

I felt so tired. I knew it was coming. I braced myself as another round of pain hit, this time in my stomach. Willing myself not to throw up the pills I had worked so hard to swallow, I felt myself falling backwards from my sitting position, too tired to keep myself up.

Staring up at the sky again, this time flat on my back, I wondered how long I had been up there. Long enough, I guess. My head continued to pound as my breathing became heavier and more laboured. Each breath seemed to take all of my effort.

I hoped Grissom wouldn't have too much trouble finding a new DNA tech. He always claimed he'd had a hard time finding me, even though the position was only open a month before I filled it. He was a good guy. A good boss. Only now did I consider that I should have waited until I was done my shift to do it. Now they'd be short a lab tech if they got a new case.

I suddenly realized that I was sweating. How much longer? I was too tired to figure it out. My eyelids were closing. I guess that answered my question.

I really wish I could have seen the stars.

_'...If I should die before I wake...'_

_

* * *

"Through a process of hard work and diligence, we were able to determine that the suspect, Robert Tunzelman, was in fact responsible for the murder of Lily Forrester. The police, acting on the evidence we gathered, made the arrest this afternoon..." _

Conrad Ecklie's voice sounded over the TV set in the break room where Warrick and Catherine sat.

"You'd think he'd solved the whole thing himself," Warrick grumbled as he looked up at the television. Catherine smirked in agreement. Ecklie did have a knack for taking credit for their work. But it was one of the perks of being the big boss.

Gil Grissom walked into the room, his head turning towards the TV. Ecklie was standing outside the Crime Lab, being interviewed by dozens of reporters. Narrowing his eyes in distaste for his associate, he picked up the remote and turned the set off.

He looked at Catherine. "Did you get our results back from Greg yet?"

The strawberry blonde shook her head. "I haven't been over there yet."

"Oh, come on, Nick! The guy's got guilty written all over him!"

All three heads turned towards the hallway at the sound of Sarah and Nick's approaching fight.

"How can you be so ready to convict the guy without a shred of evidence?"

Grissom followed the sound into the hallway, moving towards the arguing pair of CSIs. The two hardly noticed his approach.

"Hey!" Grissom interrupted, eyeing them with some disbelief and holding his hands up in a questioning gesture. "What is this?"

"He won't admit that the suspect-"

"She's saying we should arrest the guy-"

Grissom held up a hand, shaking his head slightly. Nick and Sarah fell silent. "No. I don't care who's right. Just take it someplace else."

The two CSIs exchanged angry looks before heading towards the stairs and leaving Grissom in peace.

"Why won't you admit that he's guilty?" Sarah demanded, leading the way up the stairs.

Nick frowned. "I'm not saying he couldn't have done it, I just think you're getting ahead of the evidence."

They reached the top of the stairs. Sarah pushed open the door to the roof, still facing Nick.

"Ahead of the evidence? Jakes has all of the motives. He stands to gain the most from the robbery!" She heatedly argued, her eyes on the Texan.

Nick, however, was staring past her, a mixture of confusion and shock evident on his face. Perplexed, Sarah turned around and followed his gaze, her eyes widening at what she saw. A familiar shape was lying sprawled on the roof, unmoving. Too familiar a shape. She could make out a pale blue lab coat in the dim light.

Running towards the fallen form, her fears were confirmed when she saw the familiar face of Greg Sanders, resident lab rat. His eyes were closed, one hand on his chest.

"It's Greg!" she called as Nick ran up beside her. She frantically searched for a pulse.

"Oh man. Greg." Nick said, his eyes filled with worry.

Sarah became anxious. "I can't find a pulse. He's not breathing. What's wrong with him?"

Nick shook his head, just as anxious as she was. His eyes fell upon a dimly illuminated bottle lying next to the lab rat's feet. Picking it up, he stared at it in disbelief. No. It was too much to be true. But there it was, staring at him.

Unaware of the Texan's actions, Sarah had begun CPR.

"Sarah?" Nick hardly believed that tiny voice to be his own. He was still focused on the little bottle in his hand. The little bottle that held a big meaning.

She didn't appear to have heard him, her eyes still locked on Greg's face.

"Sarah!"

The brunette turned at last towards her companion, her gaze falling to the item in his hand. Tears welled in her eyes as realization hit her.

"Oh, God." She stated, horrified. "Call an ambulance!"

The Texan turned his focus from the pill bottle, fumbling to pull out his cell phone as Sarah began chest compressions.

"This is CSI Nick Stokes; I need an ambulance at the Las Vegas Crime Lab!"

Pushing on Greg's chest as she had been taught in First Aid training, tears fell from Sarah's eyes. Silently she pleaded in vain.

"Come on, Greg! Don't do this! Why would you do this?!"

Greg didn't answer.

* * *

Gil Grissom surveyed the empty lab with some degree of surprise. He guessed that Greg was still not back from his break. Moving towards the workstation, he spotted piles of neatly organized evidence on the counter. A note on top of each explained which case was which. 

Picking up the evidence from his hit and run case, Gil sifted throught the results. None of it was surprising. They'd already concluded that a young woman, Micky Wilkes, had been the driver. They just needed more evidence to push her into a confession.

Reaching the back of the pile, Grissom found himself staring at a strangely creased piece of paper. It was written in a familiar hand, the blue ink slightly worn. Confused, he read it, his eyes widened in alarm as he began to understand. He ran towards the door, still clutching the crumpled note.

In the distance, the sound of approaching sirens could be heard throughout the starless night.

But Greg had finally said his last goodbyes.

_

* * *

_

'Now I lay me down to sleep,

_I pray the Lord my soul to keep._

_If I should die before I wake,_

_I pray the Lord my soul to take.'_

* * *

I'll leave it up to you to determine what Greg's last goodbyes were. 

Well, let me know what you think, good or bad. Please review.

I'm off to watch 'Fannysmackin'' again.

Keep Smiling! ;)

rogueandkurt


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